


Stadium Lights, Sleepless Nights

by UnboundByMusic



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnboundByMusic/pseuds/UnboundByMusic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The quarterback and the head cheerleader always end up together. Maka's the quarterback. Soul's the head cheerleader. Fate has it in for them both, and there's no complaints on either side. [Originally requested by epicminion]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stadium Lights, Sleepless Nights

The opposing team was _brutal_.

 

Maka slumped over to the bench at halftime, exhausted. Nothing was going according to plan. Her team was off-kilter, no one was playing their best, and for the first time in three years of being the state champions, the Death City Reapers were _losing_. And that did not look good on Maka’s record.

 

She gritted her teeth when she pulled off her helmet, realizing even her typically-immaculate pigtails were in disarray. _Is nothing going right today? Nothing?!_

 

Black Star, wide receiver, totally annoying close friend, jogged up to Maka as she lowered herself onto the bench, the controlled stiffness of her movements not matching her tired face.

 

Black Star looked tired, too. Even his untameable blue mass of hair seemed droopy.

“What are we going to do about these punks, Maks? We’re really sucking tonight.” He tried to talk with a mouthful of Gatorade and ended up spluttering it out, liquid blue streaks staining his chin to match his vibrant hair.

 

Maka rolled her eyes -- _does he ever cease to be gross?_ \-- and sighed, dropping her face into her hands. “I don’t know,” she groaned. “They’re better than we gave them credit for.”

 

They certainly were. The Devils were big, mean, and somehow unflagged, even though they were obviously using illegal moves -- Maka had picked up on that one pretty quick. She rubbed her shoulder where one of the other team’s players had grabbed and flung her. After the play, Maka had struggled to stand and the same asshole who’d thrown her -- a move that the refs hadn’t called, but should have -- spoke in a voice only she could hear:

 

_“Go back to the cheerleaders, bitch. Or maybe the whorehouse, fucking lesbian.”_

 

Three humiliating plays later and halftime was called.

 

Maka tried not to, but the words the other player had said sunk into her bones, branding her on a cellular level. It wasn’t easy to be a girl on the football team, especially as the quarterback, but she was proud of her position and her true friends had given her love and support all the way.

 

****

 

Maka had been head cheerleader for over a year before she had ever been interested in football, and she’d been very good at her job. She’d done the high kicks, worn the short skirts, screamed about school spirit and watched her football team get decimated on the field. And she knew she could do better than that sorry display if she was just given the chance.

 

So she studied the plays. Memorized them. Talked with the team members (sidling her way in through Black Star, one of her best friends since...forever.) She slowly moved up the chain in football with her knowledge and creativity.

 

She had practiced throwing. When she first picked up a football, she didn’t even know how to hold it. Now every single throw she made was a perfect spiral.

She had put on the football gear and ran for miles in it, trying to get used to the weight, the pain in her calves driving her forward instead of slowing her to a crawl.

 

When the time came for football tryouts, she showed up at 8:00 on the dot, old helmet under her arm and gear in a bag on her back. She was immediately laughed at.

_Isn’t that the head cheerleader?_

_What is she doing? Sure, she knows a little about football…_

Black Star had whooped in support, the rest of the team had given her bemused looks, and everyone went quiet when she exceeded expectations.

 

No one laughed at her when she got the position of quarterback. By majority, she was respected -- if not totally included. Her prowess on the field gave her a mix of smiles and sneers in the hallways (where she still managed to keep a perfect 4.0, thank you very much.)

 

Things weren’t easy, but they weren’t _bad_. She had her circle of friends and Black Star was even on the team with her -- when he wasn’t teasing her or annoying her, he could actually be surprisingly thoughtful.

 

Then Maka’s entire life changed -- _again_ \-- when Soul Evans entered the scene.

 

Soul had been the girl everyone avoided. Mean, bitingly sarcastic, the faint smell of cigarettes lingering whenever she flung her hair over her shoulder or took her jacket off -- Soul was bad news, dressed down in leather, chains, and more leather. She looked like she could kill someone without batting a shockingly red eye, and when she smiled her lips rolled back over sharp teeth.

 

If Soul ever came to football games, it wasn’t to participate in anything relating to school spirit. She’d mostly come to appreciate the cheerleaders.

Soul would stand on the outskirts, occasionally illuminating herself with a glowing cigarette butt, sneering at anyone who thought to give her a glance. And that was the way it was.

 

Until Maka became the quarterback in their junior year and suddenly Soul was _incredibly_ interested in football.

 

****  

 

Okay, that was sort of a lie -- _it’s just a bunch of idiots in tights chasing an egg around a field_ \-- but Soul couldn’t help but watch the _girl_. The _girl_ on the football team. Now _that_ wasn’t something you could see everyday.

 

Especially since that girl was _really_ hot. Like smokin’: she had an ass to die for and legs to _kill_ for.

 

Because of said girl, Soul found herself signing up for cheerleading, to see if, by some miracle, she could strike up a conversation with the freakin’ quarterback that way ( _“You’re a football player? Cool, I’m a cheerleader. Don’t cheerleaders and football players date? That’s a thing, I think. Tradition. It would be really cool if we could continue that tradition. With dating. You and me. Together. For the sake of tradition. I mean...I like you...shit, uh...here’s my number”_ ) and discovered she had, and never would, humiliate herself more.

 

She didn’t think it would be all that hard-- wave pompoms, kick occasionally, yell often -- but she was _wrong_. By the end of tryouts, she was sore, limping, and incredibly embarrassed. _I don’t participate in these things for a reason. I’m not good with other people. Scratch that, I’m just not good at anything, and never have been...that’s Wes’s job._

 

She had no idea Maka had been the head cheerleader before she started football. Nor did she have any idea that Maka would be at cheer tryouts, watching the new recruits to see who would end up wearing her old uniform.

 

Soul found herself pulled aside before she realized it by none other than her sudden inspiration to ‘lead the cheers’ -- Maka Albarn, 4.0 student, president of the student counsel, quarterback for the Death City Reapers. _“Hey, it’s Soul, right?”_

 

Maka had stuck out her hand to shake. Soul had gone for a knuckle-bump. They settled for awkward waving.

 

For the next couple of months, Maka trained Soul. She said she saw Soul’s potential and wouldn’t take no (even a grumpy ‘no) for an answer. And, if Soul was totally honest, she was as happy as a cat with a saucer of cream: Maka wore very short-shorts when they trained and Soul would rather suck it up than lose a national treasure.

 

They did more high kicks and flips than anyone ever should, and training with Maka wasn’t under ‘Easy’ in the dictionary...but it was worth it when Maka’s face lit up as she read ‘ _Soul Evans: cheer captain’_ on the official registrar.

It was more than worth it when Soul’s arms slid around Maka’s waist and their lips met in a moment hotter than stadium lights, but just as filled with electricity.

 

It didn’t take long for them to start dating after that.

 

The head cheerleader and the quarterback ended up together, like they always seemed to; the tradition was carried on with no complaints from either party.

 

****

 

Maka lifted her gaze to find her girlfriend. The cheerleaders had just finished their routine and were on the side of the field, laughing and high-fiving.

 

Soul was already looking at her. The teasing smirk and wink made Maka’s already hot cheeks get hotter.

Maka glanced up at the clock. They had twenty more minutes of halftime. “I’m going to head over there --” she gestured toward the cheerleaders, “-- for a bit. Brief me on the plays when I get back?”

 

Black Star grinned and punched her on the shoulder, swinging a towel around her neck. “Go get ‘em, Tiger. But don’t disappear for too long -- wouldn’t want to have to interrupt anything.”

 

She punched him, stood, and jogged over to Soul.

 

Soul’s usually jagged white mess was tied back into a thick ponytail. Her black and white cheerleader uniform was nothing like her usual wardrobe: Soul still wore her tough-girl clothes around school without fail, but it was nice to see her in something so...well, nice.

 

They kissed. It was brief and tasted like sweat and the cinnamon gum Soul liked to chew. Maka could feel holes being burned into the back of her neck. The brand on her bones ached.

_Girls can’t play football._

_Lesbian._

 

She smiled against Soul’s lips. “Hey.” _Let them talk._

 

Soul smiled back, her forehead against Maka’s sweaty one. “You smell.” _You’re doing great out there._

 

They both laughed quietly, their own little bubble unbreakable and protective beside the green Astroturf. Then they pulled away. _More time for that later._ Maka’s face reddened again when she thought about some of their previous ‘locker room shenanigans’ and ‘behind the school rendezvous’. _Yep, definitely more time._

 

“C’mere, your ponytails are havin’ issues...”

 

_Thank god Soul doesn’t know my thought process_ \--

 

“...perv.”

 

\-- _never mind._

 

Maka reddened even more when Soul winked. She obliged, standing in front of the chair Soul was standing on. Deft piano fingers worked the ponyties out, then hesistated. “Pigtails or braid?”

 

Maka wanted to laugh. Soul couldn’t braid to save her life. “Pigtails, please.”

 

“Comin’ right up.”

 

Maka let herself relax under Soul’s fingers, her eyes slipping shut. For a few moments she stood quietly, content to listen to the tinned music through the overhead speakers and enjoy the feeling of her hair getting played with, something she had enjoyed since before her mother had left.

 

But the silence wasn’t lasting. Words were bubbling in the back of Maka’s throat, pushed up like bile, fuelled by her insecurities and nerves. She felt like their little protective bubble was collapsing, collapsing around her, _suffocating her_ \--

“It’s really hard, Soul,” she said quietly.

_It’s really hard being the quarterback. It’s really hard keeping a 4.0. It’s really hard when my Papa looks at me and never fails to be disappointed -- I used to be his baby girl. It’s really hard being judged and laughed at. It’s really hard being a girl. It’s really hard to not meet my own expectations._

 

The fingers didn’t stop moving, brushing through Maka’s ashy blonde hair with more purpose than just making a new set of pigtails. “I know.”

 

The ties twisted into place. Maka heard the chair behind her creak as Soul leaned down to her ear. “But you’ve got this, Angel. And I’m right here with you.”

 

And Soul’s words freed Maka.

 

Suddenly the bubble was rising, the protection was back: and Maka could see clearly that the one holding it above her was Soul.

 

Maka didn’t care about the fact she really needed to head to the rest of the Reapers and call a huddle, not about the cheating, assholey team, not about the brands on her bones -- because they only served to make her stronger, turn her bones from organic matter into steel. She could bear the weight of the stares like she had carried the weight of the football gear; the pain pushing her forward, forging her. The fire licked her flesh but it only served to tear the weakness away, letting her metal skeleton show -- stronger than all of them. _So let them stare. Soul will protect me, and I will protect her. We are our strength: together, we can not be torn down._

 

When they kissed, their fire seared out of them, lighting the duo up brighter than the stadium lights. And neither of them would trade that away for the world.


End file.
